


Little Boy Blues

by Bam4Me



Series: A Million Ways To Enter a Big/Little Relationship [17]
Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, De-Aged Stiles Stilinski, Established Relationship, Gen, M/M, Stiles is Peter's baby duck, Stiles is fudging cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-09
Updated: 2015-11-09
Packaged: 2018-04-30 19:55:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5177708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bam4Me/pseuds/Bam4Me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is tiny and cute, pack is protective, that's all you need in life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Little Boy Blues

**Author's Note:**

> uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
> 
> i hate writing, ive been coughing up phlegm non-stop for 12 hours now, my throat hurts like FUCK and i want to die. seriously, make it stop, my throat hurts, it feels like fire.

 

 

"And then! Then she called me immature, and so I said to myself 'I'll show you immature' and then she was like 'No, I'll show you immature,' and I was gonna say 'that's not a very mature reply,' but as you can see, I was then littlified and now I'm tiny and fun sized."

 

Stiles stopped his story, looking down, no longer excited as he explained the consequences of his own actions and frowned. John turned to look between the gathered pack in his living room and back to his now tiny three year old lisping son. He let out a long sigh and reached out to pull the now sulking boy into his arms, giving Scott and Derek a pointed look. "This better not last more than a week."

 

Scott frowned, "Um, what if it does?"

 

John frowned harder, gently rubbing up and down Stiles' back while the boy buried himself in the folds of his dad's henley, snuffling at the fabric pathetically. "Well, to be honest, I'm not sure what I'll do yet, but I don't think you'll find it very pleasant. He's a part of your pack, you should want him back to normal."

 

Scott whined, "I do want him back to normal, I just don't know how yet!"

 

John nodded, "Then figure it out."

 

Scott sighed and got up, taking half the pack with him out the front door, leaving Derek, Peter and Malia in the living room, the three Hale's looking at the little boy with various degrees of worry and trepidation.

 

"I assume you three are appointing yourself as guarddogs for the week, or, however long this lasts?"

 

Peter scrunched up his face, quietly commenting that he knew where Stiles got his love of sass from. Malia elbowed him in the ribs, still looking at Stiles with a scared face, "You love his sass, shut up."

 

Stiles pulled back from John's chest, hair in wild baby tufts sticking out all over and lower lip in a serious pout. He looked back at the were's, causing Peter to melt a little, but Derek and Malia just seemed to get a bit more uncomfortable. Stiles didn't seem to be doing so well though, being so small. He was only wearing a big sweater that he'd made Scott grab for him when he'd got home because his freaking tee shirt hadn't fit him and his pants wouldn't stay up.

 

John absently noted that this sweater hadn't been worn by Stiles in maybe three or four years because it had gotten too small. John made a mental note to make Stiles clean out his closet if he still had clothes that hadn't fit him for years up there.

 

John still knew it was coming though, about thirty seconds before it happened too. Impressive for a man who hasn't actually had to take care of a three year old since Stiles was a three year old. John pulled Stiles' head back into his shoulder, swaying gently with him as he made his way into the kitchen.

 

"Got about twenty seconds till the tears come if you three want to scram before it happens." He didn't raise his voice any, choosing to mumble them out while he focused on getting a soft blanket out of the laundry room, tossing it over Stiles entirely. Stiles always liked being smothered when he was feeling icky.

 

He heard the door open and shut and figured he was alone now, only to turn around to find Derek, the perpetually sour looking one standing in the doorway. John was momentarily reminded of the time that he'd spent in a bleak room grilling Derek about some murders. Derek seemed focused on Stiles though, looking at the lump pressed against his shoulder while Stiles finally let out a small sob, sounding like he was trying to smother them with his hand.

 

John's eyes closed with a distressed look on his face. It was never easy hearing your child cry. He put one hand on Stiles’ back, rubbing soothingly while the little boy let out tired sobs into his neck. He bounced him a little, before looking back up at Derek with a frown, "The others gone for the night?"

 

Derek nodded, looking like he wanted to cry himself when Stiles started crying in earnest. Stiles just sounded so distressed, John wanted to wrap his little boy up and never let him go. Derek's lower lip wobbled and he took a step forward, laying one hand on Stiles' back before looking up at John and silently asking him permission to hold the little boy. John hesitated but eventually handed the crying boy over.

 

Derek's tension seemed to drain from him as he felt the small body, heavy and solid, in his arms. He sat down on one of the kitchen chairs, setting the boy face up in his lap before using a good amount of the blanket wrapped around Stiles to swaddle the boy tightly and pick the bundle back up.

 

Stiles stopped crying for a moment, looking shocked at his new found, enforced stillness. Even as a baby, the boy could never stop squirming. He still wasn't done crying though, and so he let out a hiccup as the tears continued trickling out, but he seemed a little more calmed down.

 

John sighed and slumped into the chair next to him, watching Derek rub the tiny boy's back with soothing circles, Stiles now resting mostly against his chest. "I didn't think you'd still be so good with children after all these years."

 

It'd been a long time since the Hale family was a main staple in their community, but he did remember Derek Hale being an amazing babysitter, even as a bratty teenager. Probably because he had so many siblings and cousins.

 

Derek gave a tired smile, "Yeah. It's like riding a bike I think. You never forget the better method of comfort to sooth a baby's tears. Besides that, Stiles is pack, and not even I could listen to a pack mate cry and not help."

 

John nodded, holding his hands out for the baby again, once more playing 'pass the Stiles' until he had the tiny boy back in his arms. He kept him face up this time though, looking into those tear filled eyes while Stiles continued trying to squirm his way out of the blanket. He ran one finger down the bridge of Stiles’ nose, cooing at him when the little boy made a grumpy noise. "Not a baby."

 

John smiled at him, "We know that, Stiles. We're just trying to help."

 

Stiles finally wormed one arm out through the face hole, nearly braining himself on the way, reaching out grabby fingers for John's face. "I know. Not a baby though."

 

John let Stiles grab onto two of his fingers, those tiny hands just so little in his own. "I know that, sweetie."

 

Stiles yawned, looking too tired to continue crying right now. He'd keep doing it later if he woke up to find his surroundings unsatisfactory. "Make sure Derek knows too."

 

"Of course. No babies in this kitchen."

 

"Good." Those big honey coloured eyes dropped shut and John sighed, gently tucking Stiles' hand back into the blanket.

 

"Is it bad that I don't want to let him go for even a second?"

 

Derek shrugged, "If he was mine, I wouldn't let him go either. But, you shouldn't have to worry tonight, I'm on babysitting duty until tomorrow."

 

John stood up with a frown, "Who's babysitting tomorrow?"

 

"Probably Peter. I'm not sure if Malia knows how babies work. Well, Stiles isn't exactly a baby, but he's close enough that Malia would probably smother him just to shut him up."

 

John quarked a smile, "I don't know, that girl sure can put up with a lot of Stiles' crap. I think she mostly just tunes it out when he rants. One time, I caught her with her eyes completely glazed over while Stiles talked about some movie or other."

 

Derek grinned, "Yeah. She's very good at glazing over in just the most infuriating way. Either way, she's no babysitter."

 

"Stiles sitter."

 

Derek raised an eyebrow, "Really?"

 

John shrugged, "When he was little, he called it a Stiles sitter."

 

"Okay. Well, Peter's at least much better with babies, and even better with babies in his pack. He'll be fine. I told him to go shopping for some things first. Stiles doesn't exactly have clothes that fit right now, and I can't, in good judgment make you or any of the teenagers pay for an entirely new wardrobe for him, and..." Derek trialed off, turning red when he noticed John giving him the same look he gave Stiles when his son was on a roll. Derek's mouth shut with a tiny clack and he stood up as well. "You know, you and Stiles should really head off to bed. He'll be fine."

 

John nodded, heading off to the stairs, "I think I'll keep him with me tonight. He was always a tactical baby, always needed to touch someone."

 

Derek didn't mention about how he'd probably be camping out in John's room with them. John was a smart guy, he probably already knew. Instead, he just silently followed the two of them up and waited patiently by the bed and Stiles' still bundled and sleeping form while John got ready for bed. John did raise one eyebrow at him while he slid under the blankets, but didn't comment, pulling the bundled boy into his arms to sleep with.

 

Derek made no comment about how it took nearly two hours for John to fall asleep, and before that he kept jerking awake to make sure Stiles was still there.

 

***

 

The next morning, Derek was tired, but kept himself from dosing off while he watched Stiles slowly squirm his way out of sleep.

 

Derek had stolen Stiles' spare phone charger and spent the night doing much the same thing that he assumed Stiles did on the internet. Research and facebook. Mostly just looking through the pack's pictures though.

 

(Although, funny thing, Stiles had apparently thought himself funny one day, and made a facebook group called 'The Pack' and invited everyone into it, which had lead to a lot of rolled eyes, but no one denied the request, lest they insult the rest of the pack members. Derek actually posted things on it. It was weird.)

 

Anyways, Stiles was squirming closer to the edge of the bed, but before Derek could get up to rescue him from a fall, the sheriff's arm closest to Stiles flung out and pulled the boy bodily back into his chest, grumbling out tiredly that it was too early for squirming teenagers.

 

Derek raised an eyebrow at that, wondering if Stiles often invaded his father's bed at night.

 

He guessed that that must be the case because he could calculate the exact moment that John's mind caught up with him and he opened his eyes to see the 'teenager' in his arms was in fact a three year old toddler.

 

John's right eye seemed to have developed a slight twitch now that Derek looked a little closer, before the man let out a ragged sigh, slumping down after engaging in a short staring contest with the toddler.

 

'It is too early to deal with the supernatural." John briefly pressed his face into the loose bundle of blankets and got up, untangling his baby from them easily.

 

Still didn't stop him from passing off the bundle to Derek before he went into the bathroom, muttering about how he needs a shower. Derek just quietly accepted the boy into his arms, watching the sheriff and pointedly not thinking about him being soapy and wet.

 

That is not the type of thing you should think about with a three year old in your arms, poking at you like he wants to figure out what you are. Derek sighed and stood up, unplugging his phone from the wall and sticking it into his back pocket.

 

It was probably a good thing because he heard a car pull into the driveway and assumed it was Peter coming to dress Stiles like a person with actual fashion sense.

 

***

 

Turns out, as soon as he's dealing with a child under ten, any of Peter's own fashion sense goes out the window.

 

"He looks like an advertisement from the ninties."

 

Peter frowned. He'd been having fun choosing the boy's clothes at the store. "I thought he looked rather cute."

 

Derek looked back at Stiles, now wearing a duck yellow tee shirt underneath a lavender set of overalls, looking right at home in the bad colour mixture. He even had little red converse. It was sickeningly cute. "He looks like... a three year old."

 

Peter shrugged, going back to looking at the toddler with a smile. He'd always liked Stiles, and he likes him even more now that he gets to dress him. Even though Derek thinks his choices might be worse than any he's seen Stiles make so far.

 

The toddler seemed preoccupied with shoving peanut butter toast into his mouth at the moment and took a silent joy in the fact that he was going to get it all over himself. Peter hated messes.

 

John didn't hold back his opinion when he got down stairs, looking at Stiles fondly. "Oh, my sweet baby looks like a walking Osh Kosh B’gosh advert. So cute."

 

Derek made a 'told you so' motion to Peter, who shrugged. "Well, I never said he didn't look like one, I just said that he looks cute. Pastel babies never go out of style. Much cuter than today’s toddlers, walking around with grease covered polo’s and mystery stains."

 

Derek gave Peter an odd look, "All you just described there was that you prefer a clean baby."

 

Peter bristled, "Well, baby ducks and overalls help. I assume Stiles will be just as messy as before, so I figured making him cute could only help me not kill him."

 

John smirked, pressing a kiss to Stiles' head before getting a mug of coffee, "You know, he's still messy, but he didn't start hating getting clean until he was about eight. If you attack him with a wet nap now, he'll be much more open to letting you."

 

Peter smiled, "Dully noted."

 

Stiles, who had finally unstuck the roof of his mouth from too much peanut butter, looked over at Peter warily. "Does this mean no park? I was thinking we could go to the park. If you're Stiles-sitting me, I want witnesses to the atr- at-..." Stiles trailed off for a moment, trying to sound out a word before muttering a quiet 'fuck', "evils you might do to me. I want people there to make sure no hands stray."

 

Peter looked completely scandalized, and Derek was pretty sure half of it was because of the cussing toddler in the room, "I would never. Children are a joy and should be celebrated and loved, not treated like they're just there to make adults happier."

 

Stiles was quiet for a moment before he snorted, "You're like a Tolkien dwarf. Or elf."

 

Peter sighed. Even as a teenager, Stiles will always be one hundred percent more likely to listen if someone was talking about Lord of the Rings. "Does that mean you'll believe me when I say I'd never hurt a child?"

 

Stiles hummed about it for a moment before getting an excited look on his face, "Can we read Tolkien books at the park?" He was practically bouncing in his seat, looking excited beyond belief. Peter had a short internal struggle not to get annoyed.

 

Stiles was too cute to get annoyed at. "If it will make you happy?"

 

Derek snorted. He'd once read Cora, The Hobbit, eight times in one week when she was little. Peter has had enough of Tolkien literature. He'd not be surprised at all if he came back later to find Peter trying not to brain himself on a wall.

 

Stiles let out an excited noise, "It would, it would!" John absently put a hand on Stiles' stomach, keeping the boy from bouncing off his chair while John ate leaning against the counter directly behind him. Stiles settled down at the reminder not to hurt himself and shoved a banana slice in his mouth, effectively shutting himself up.

 

Peter snorted and went to go unpack some other things he figured they might need.

 

"Did you buy out a Babies-R-Us?"

 

Peter paused, "Um, just half."

 

Derek just snorted and poked at the car seat, "One would think that my mother used you as her constant personal babysitter, you know."

 

Peter snorted, "You know she did. I actually like children to be honest. It's everyone else in the world that I want dead."

 

Derek sighed and shook his head. Peter does like kids though, so he lets it go. "I need to go home and sleep. I feel dead."

 

Peter smirked, "I've felt like that before. Rather soothing to be honest."

 

"Then why didn't you stay that way?" Stiles was standing in the doorway to the front hall, one hand still holding a piece of slightly mushed banana that he quickly shoved in his mouth. Peter smiled before seeing the sticky hands and moving to look for the baby wipes he got.

 

"Dead is boring. Nothing to do but plan and think. I think I did enough thinking while I was in a coma for eight years, don't you?"

 

Stiles nodded solemnly, looking disturbed, "Thoughts are icky. Rather read a book."

 

Peter found the wet wipes and deftly scrubbed Stiles' sticky hands while the toddler poked through a bag, looking undisturbed by the wolf cleaning him.

 

Derek and John decided to leave while everyone was in good spirits, instead of waiting until Stiles and Peter got into their first fight.

 

It was bound to happen.

 

***

 

"Why are you trying to give me a sippy cup?" Stiles sounded kind of annoyed, poking at the cup that Peter had filled with juice and put on the table for him. "Not a baby."

 

Peter sighed, "No, but you are very small. Are you sure your dad wants you to drop things and make a mess?"

 

Stiles sighed. He really was thirsty, and he couldn't lift the glasses when they had liquid in them.

 

He gave Peter a 'tell anybody and die' stare and lifted the sippy cup, taking a long drink from the stupid baby holes in the top. Also, it had handles.

 

Only baby sippy cups had handles. He frowned, holding it by one handle as he further inspected it. It had more ducks on it.

 

His tiny baby overalls had ducks on them, his tiny baby converse had three ducks on the heels, his tiny baby shirt was duck yellow, the carseat that Peter got had ducks on it, he's pretty sure he'd seen a stuffed duck in one of the bags.

 

There seemed to be a theme for the day.

 

"What's with all the ducks?"

 

Peter paused, seeming to honestly think about it before making an odd face. "Uh, that –that might not have, um, actually been planned."

 

Stiles snorted, sticking the tip of the cup back in his mouth. He honestly was thirsty.

 

***

 

Stiles tried his hardest to scramble up onto the couch without Peter's help, but it wasn't exactly working. The couch was as big as he was.

 

He felt hands slide around his waist and decided not to complain when Peter neatly deposited him on the soft cushions.

 

Stiles vaguely wondered what happened to going to the park before shrugging. A toddler's day could fit many things in it. They didn't have long attention spans. He could already feel his slipping. But then again, he had a short attention span normally. Sometimes. It was complicated.

 

Stiles sighed and leaned back, still holding onto the mostly empty sippy cup and looking bored. "I need entertainment."

 

Peter had one of the shopping bags in his hands and sat next to Stiles with a thump, making Stiles' get tossed upwards bodily, making the toddler laugh. "I thought toddlers had endless bounds of energy?"

 

Stiles let out the most pitiful sigh, "I feel like I got run over by a steam roller. Can we save the boundless energy for later? I still wanna go to the park."

 

Peter nodded, tucking Stiles into his side with a smile. Stiles just let him, nuzzling into the werewolf's ribcage under his arm. He always liked snuggles with his creeper wolf. "What's in the bag?"

 

Peter pulled Stiles into his lap, taking a moment to snuffle at his baby's neck before he pulled back, grabbing the bag and opening it to show Stiles what was inside. "I thought you wanted entertainment?"

 

Stiles pulled out a book. Not just any book, it was Tolkien's unfinished works.

 

He didn't have a copy of this yet except on ebook. (Okay, he had all of Tolkien's works on ebook, but that's because he's an obsessed fanboy.)

 

Behind the book though were random assorted objects. A stuffed duck, (knew it) a pacifier with a duck on it that reminded him vaguely of that time Peter threatened him with a gag and never followed through, and a pack of wet naps.

 

Stiles pulled out the duck and frowned, "Are you trying to tell me something? Like, that I'm a duck, maybe?"

 

Peter thinks that over before smiling, pressing a kiss to Stiles' neck again, "Hmm, you do follow me around a lot."

 

Stiles couldn't help it, giggling and pulling away from Peter's tickly facial hair. He was sensitive. "Why do I need a pacifier?"

 

Peter shrugged, "You have the world’s biggest oral fixation, I figured you might like it. Besides that, no way am I letting you suck your thumb."

 

"Too plebian?"

 

"Too germy! Do you know how many germs a hand picks up just through the first three hours of being awake? A lot."

 

Stiles sighed. Peter hated germs. Really, the guy was like, obsessively clean. "I'm not sure though. I don't need to suck on something."

 

Peter made one of those faces that tells Stiles he's trying not to make a sexual innuendo about Stiles' mouth. He made a lot of sexual innuendo's about Stiles mouth. He probably didn't feel good about talking about a child that way. "If you're sure. You don't have to do anything you don't want."

 

Peter felt the giddiness rolling off of Stiles in waves, making the wolf rumble happily at having pleased his mate.

 

Stiles gave him a happy look

 

***

 

By the time the sheriff got home that night, Stiles was completely asleep on Peter in the living room, once more swaddled up like a burrito.

 

“He got upset the more tired he got.”

 

John nodded, sitting close enough that he could pull Stiles into his own arms. “Stiles once likened sleeping to that of dying.”

 

Peter gave him an odd look, and John frowned down at the little boy, feeling his throat close up a little. “Stiles said… The thing about insomnia, which Stiles has, very severely, is that it keeps you up past your limits sometimes. Sometimes, Stiles doesn’t sleep for days, sometimes he begs me to stay home for the day from school so he _can_ finally get that sleep when he needs it. He said that falling asleep was like dying, because when you’re that tired, you no longer know the difference, you just know that everything in your mind is shutting off, and it’s terrifying.”

 

Peter looked away, biting his lip. “Werewolves, for the most part, don’t get many sicknesses. I’ve never actually had issues falling asleep. When I woke up, though, I didn’t sleep very much, but, I don’t think I ever brought myself to that point.”

 

John nodded, standing up with Stiles still in his arms, “I’ll bring him up stairs. He’ll wake up eventually, but I won’t do it. It’ll just make him mad and give him a headache.”

 

Peter nodded, sitting back against the cushions. “I’ll still be here when he’s awake.”

 

John stopped in the doorway, giving his son’s chosen mate a long look. “I think that’s all that really matters to him, to be honest.”

**Author's Note:**

> ouuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuch
> 
> im not apologizing for that shit ending, be glad you got anything at all


End file.
